Sunday, September 21, 2009
Dahlin’ dears,
Last full moon I saw La Luna shine her light down on the sheep in the front pasture and I just can't stop thinking about the peacefulness of their presence. The five of them lay so still on the end-of-summer grass that they looked like a still life. They did not move as I walked by. They were totally undisturbed, like I want to be.
If I could be more like a sheep, my life would be placid. I pray for that every day.
And I wonder under the light of the moon if going through Lyme disease may be somewhat like the pain of childbirth. Having never had a biological child, I do not know that pain, but have heard my girlfriends describe the experience, and how they got through it by remembering (in between contractions!) that they were giving life to a new being.
I wonder if the pain of illness may create a new being out of me as I pass through it. That image helped me today. I wonder if those of you who have different kinds of suffering know what I mean?
Such a passage requires the removal of doubt and fear. Fear is that killer that cripples the mind and heart. We live in a world filled with fear. We have once again passed the anniversary of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. We witness destruction in so many areas of life. The recent anniversary of 9/11 reminds us. Moving toward the goal of courage and love to combat fear will free us to feel more compassion, not only for others, but also for our selves.
For we are sweet beings meant for joy and laughter, not fear. Yes, when there is something literally fearful in front of us, we step out of harm's way. But when imagined fears and anticipated dread threatens to hurt our minds and bodies, it is time to take that step to move beyond fear.
The moon in the sky is not afraid. The sheep in the pasture are not afraid. This evening I commit myself to saying "no" to fear and "yes" to love. Who will take my hand as I walk down this road?
84,000 Blessings,
Rebecca
Last full moon I saw La Luna shine her light down on the sheep in the front pasture and I just can't stop thinking about the peacefulness of their presence. The five of them lay so still on the end-of-summer grass that they looked like a still life. They did not move as I walked by. They were totally undisturbed, like I want to be.
If I could be more like a sheep, my life would be placid. I pray for that every day.
And I wonder under the light of the moon if going through Lyme disease may be somewhat like the pain of childbirth. Having never had a biological child, I do not know that pain, but have heard my girlfriends describe the experience, and how they got through it by remembering (in between contractions!) that they were giving life to a new being.
I wonder if the pain of illness may create a new being out of me as I pass through it. That image helped me today. I wonder if those of you who have different kinds of suffering know what I mean?
Such a passage requires the removal of doubt and fear. Fear is that killer that cripples the mind and heart. We live in a world filled with fear. We have once again passed the anniversary of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. We witness destruction in so many areas of life. The recent anniversary of 9/11 reminds us. Moving toward the goal of courage and love to combat fear will free us to feel more compassion, not only for others, but also for our selves.
For we are sweet beings meant for joy and laughter, not fear. Yes, when there is something literally fearful in front of us, we step out of harm's way. But when imagined fears and anticipated dread threatens to hurt our minds and bodies, it is time to take that step to move beyond fear.
The moon in the sky is not afraid. The sheep in the pasture are not afraid. This evening I commit myself to saying "no" to fear and "yes" to love. Who will take my hand as I walk down this road?
84,000 Blessings,
Rebecca
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